


I Love You

by magickbeing



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, Mentions of Death, Mother and Son Bonding, Mother-Son Relationship, Mourning, and fighting, the Morgan family - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickbeing/pseuds/magickbeing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of them can say it. But it's there. It's written in the lines of his forehead as he closes his eyes and breathes in familiar perfume. It drags along his hair, hidden under her touch and nesting in the beds of her nails. It's obvious in the line of her body tucked against hers; even more so in the curve of his lips twitching against a smile and her hand against his shoulder.</p>
<p>They might not say it but it's there and they can hear it nonetheless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> The Morgan family dynamic may or may not give me life.
> 
> This story will most likely be a connection of drabbles, some connected, some not. But they'll all be focused around the Morgan family and their interactions as Derek grows up. The story will contain a lot of my personal head-canons, too, such as Derek's middle name (Anthony) and what Fran did for a living (I write her as a registered nurse). So yeah. You've been forewarned, I guess.

He needs to leave. He just needs to _leave,_ to get away—away from this—away from _everything—_ and definitely, _definitely_ away from _her._ He needs to leave but she won't let him. She's yelling, her voice shrill, and he can hear their neighbor's dog barking. He grabs his backpack and moves toward the door but then she's standing in front of him, her hands in the air.

 

“Derek Anthony Morgan,” she tries, tasting each syllable and saying it with utter conviction, as if the weight of his name alone will keep him in their apartment.

 

Derek tries side-stepping her but she sways, moving to block him again.

 

“Get out of the way!” he yells.

 

_He needs to leave._

 

“Derek, please—“ her voice is softer then, an attempt to sway, to reach through, and her hand is fluttering up to touch the side of his face. He draws back before contact is made, acting very much as if she's something ugly and acidic. Her hand retracts, fingers curling into her palm, and there's a shake of her jaw. Derek takes another step back and for a moment—a brief, maddening moment—he thinks she's going to strike him, to physically attempt knocking some sense into him.

 

But she doesn't.

 

She's turning away, moving away from the door, and _it's his chance._

 

He needs to leave.

 

He takes a quick step toward it and is surprised when she calls out, “Fine. Go.”

 

There's a tremble to her voice and he hesitates, disbelief coloring his features as he glances back at her.

 

Her eyes won't meet his and the light catches on her cheeks, fat tear-drops streaming down to collect along her jaw and chin. He hasn't seen her cry since his dad's funeral. He knows she does, of course. He's not stupid. And he knows she thinks she's being quiet... but he can hear her sometimes. His sister's can, too. They all can.

 

“I'm not your dad,” she says. The words are rough around their edges, broken, and the crease along his brow is deepening. “I get it. I'm not... I'm not your dad—“ there's a hiccup of a breath and her hands are in the air again, thrown up toward either side, “—and I don't... I don't know how to get through to you, baby.” She swallows, brown eyes sweeping across his features and tracing familiar lines. He looks a lot like him. “I... just—you're not the only one hurting without him.”

 

That last sentence is said quietly, so softly that he barely hears it. It's an obvious confession and his backpack his heavy against his shoulder.

 

_He needs to leave._

 

But he can't.

 

Derek hesitates and then her hands are moving to cover her face and she's crying, she's _crying_ and yes, he's upset her before. This is hardly the first time they've argued. Usually she screams at him and banishes him to his bedroom—but she can't protect him this time. Those walls won't keep him safe and the local beat-cops can only do so many favors. He's been caught breaking and entering— _again—_ as well as defacing public property with more graffiti. He had a weapon, too. A knife.

 

They can't turn their backs to that.

 

It can't happen again—and she doesn't know what to do.

 

Her breaths are coming out in short, strained hiccups and Derek hesitates.

 

_He should leave now. This is his chance._

 

But he can't—because... because he's not trying to hurt her. He's not. Not deliberately, anyway.

 

He just—he _needs to leave_ and he doesn't know why but he _does_ and he _can't_ and he needs to _fix this._

 

But how?

 

He swallows thickly and then he's dropping his backpack on the floor.

 

He's thirteen and she's his mom and _he needs to fix this._

She's all he has, whether he likes it or not, and his feet are carrying him across the small space and to her. She tenses and he _hates it_ but she _tenses_ and then his arms are tentatively settling around her shaking form.

 

She melts into him.

 

He's so tall for his age and he looks _just like him_ and she only has to bend slightly to bury her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Her arms wrap around her son and she draws him close. _He looks just like him_ but he's _not_ him, he's Derek, he's her son—their son—and God—God, how is she supposed to do this by herself?

 

A hand smooths across her back.

 

He won't say it.

 

He can't.

 

Just like he can't leave, even though he still thinks he needs to... but it's there. It's there, heavy in the air between them, drowned out by the sound of her hiccuping breaths and choked sobs. It's there, written in the lines of his forehead as he closes his eyes and breathes in familiar perfume. It's there when she shifts to sprinkle kisses across his forehead and draw him closer yet because _she can't say it either._

 

 


End file.
